Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Carol/Leo
Spoilers: He Shall, From Time To Time
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo (helsinkibaby.ahkay.net) Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: Carol's thoughts as she called Leo for the press conference
Author's Note: Final proof, if any were needed, that I've slid over the precipice into insanity. For the record, another obsession of mine is Babylon 5, one episode of which gave me a nugget of disinformation to use in here. Bonus points if you spot it. This is for Jayne, who said that her muse was clamouring for this, and mine answered…it's all her fault I tell you!

She's been working in the White House since January 21st 1999, the day after President Bartlet took the Oath of Office. She's been working for these people, with these people for far longer than that, joining the campaign in November of 1997. She remembers the electricity, the energy that crackled among them as they criss-crossed the country, trying to get a good man elected President. If she closes her eyes, she can see her niece's bedroom door, covered with postcards, the postcards that she'd sent her from every city or town that they'd stopped in during the Bartlet for America campaign. She remembers those times with fondness, back before everything got so complicated, back when they were the hunters and not the hunted.

She remembers the first time that she stepped into this room, the first time that she stood at the podium beside CJ, taking notes on a briefing. She remembers feeling terrified, her hands so slick with sweat that she could hardly hold the pen, sure that everyone could see her knees knocking together. All she could see was the forest of hands waving with questions, hear people shouting CJ's name, but she couldn't see the people themselves, blinded as she was by the bright lights at the back of the room. She remembers thinking that she'd never get used to this, that she couldn't handle it, that maybe she'd be better off behind a desk, behind the scenes.

She followed CJ out, all ready to tell her all of this, but she'd nearly walked into her boss when CJ leaned against the wall, then leaned over, briefing book forming a bridge between her knees and her waist. She'd been instantly worried, thinking that CJ was sick or something, but when she put a hand out, CJ had turned to her with a huge smile. "Were you anywhere near as terrified as I was?" came the question, and she'd just looked at CJ, agog.

"You were nervous?" she asked, amazed that the strong confident CJ Cregg would actually get nervous.

CJ laughed. "Try petrified!" She held out her hand, and sure enough, it was shaking. "I'll make you a deal," CJ continued, straightening up. "Tonight, if we survive this with no screw-ups, we're going out to get drunk."

She'd laughed too, holding out her own hand to CJ, the tremors hardly abating. "Deal," she'd said, feeling better for the knowledge that she wasn't the only one feeling like this.

That had been the worst that she'd ever seen it; even the second briefing that first day hadn't been as nerve wracking, not once she knew what to expect.

Then today had come.

The moment she set foot into the briefing room, she'd been transported back to that day, that day when it looked as if the room was packed to far more than its capacity of eighty-six, that day when the throng of people shouting and screaming at them had terrified her. That day when she hadn't a clue what to expect.

Today was almost as bad, except that she did know what to expect. She knew exactly what was going to happen, and she didn't know how she was going to stand by and watch it.

And the thought kept going through her mind that if she was feeling this bad, how must he be feeling?

A nod from one of the other staffers and she knew that they were ready to begin, so, with a deep breath and a quick Hail Mary, she crossed the room, going to the opposite door. He was in the little passageway, pacing back and forth, and his back was to her when she opened the door. Swallowing hard, she said his name. "Leo?"

He turned, either at the sound of the door or her voice; she couldn't be sure. "Mm-hmm?"

"They're ready for you."

They were four of the hardest words that she'd ever had to say, and he nodded, knowing that the hour was at hand. "Thank you."

He didn't move, and she tightened her arms around her notebook, feeling absurdly as she did so that she was like a child with a nightmare, tightening their arms around their favourite teddy bear. "You need anything?" she asked, not sure what she could do for him, but wanting to make the offer.

"No." The shake of his head was barely perceptible, and there might have been something in his eyes, or it might have just been her imagination. He walked by her into the press briefing room, and before the subtle scent of his aftershave had had time to permeate her senses, the reporters were on their feet, flashbulbs popping. She felt nauseous, her hands slick against her notebook, and she prayed that she wouldn't drop it.

He kept his poise though, wishing the reporters a good morning, with them replying in kind. Then, as she leaned against the wall, hoping that it would hold her up if nothing else did, he began his statement. "A story, in which many, if not most of you, are aware of already, will break in wide circulation by the end of the day. I'd like to take this opportunity to read a brief statement before I answer your questions." She knew he could take it from there, she'd seen a copy of the statement. She'd read it once and she already knew it by heart. "In June of 1993, I voluntarily admitted myself to the Sierra-Tucson Rehabilitation Facility to treat an addiction to alcohol and Valium."

He looked up then and she was blinded by flashbulbs; the front page of the afternoon and evening editions, some part of her mind noted detachedly.

"I am a recovering alcoholic and drug addict," he continued. "I deeply regret the pain and trouble this has caused for the people in my life. I'd like to, at this point, clarify a few things..."

His voice continued, but she wasn't listening. This part she knew. Instead, as she looked at him, her mind travelled back two years, to a cold January day in a town far away, and she thanked God that no-one would ever know about that.

>*<*>*<

It had only been a couple of months since they'd all begun working together, and things were already beginning to pick up steam. Long days and nights were the norm, as was picking up sleep here and there while on the road on the campaign bus, with conversations being conducted at high volume all around you. Carol often wondered what the hell had possessed her to take this job, but just as often, she was forced to admit to herself that she wouldn't be anywhere else. Her room-mate for the duration of the campaign was Margaret, who at first glance had struck her as rather eccentric, if not odd, and prolonged exposure hadn't changed that opinion any. What it had done though was show Carol that for all her eccentricities, Margaret had a heart of gold, and was incredibly loyal to Leo McGarry, the Bartlet for America campaign, and her friends. In that order.

The campaign structure was pretty elastic, to put it charitably, but Carol seemed to spend most of her time working with CJ Cregg on press matters, while Margaret spent a lot of time organising volunteers and other recruitment issues, not to mention general campaign organisation with Mrs Landingham. Their paths didn't often cross during the day; their roles hardly ever did.

It happened exactly once.

No-one was quite sure how, but the advance man in Cedar Rapids hadn't done his job, and things were a mess, with less than a week to go to the Iowa Caucus. The campaign staff were dealing with ten different things at once, and Leo had lost his temper with all of them, before declaring that if you wanted something done, you should really do it yourself, and he'd go down there personally to meet with the contributors and the press. He was looking around for Margaret as he was talking, all ready to say that she was going to go with him, when Toby pointed out that they had a batch of new recruits volunteering, and that Margaret was going to be needed to process them and assign them jobs. Leo had been incensed, wanting to know how the hell he was going to get everything done without an assistant, when CJ had piped up with, "Take Carol."

It's hard to know who was more shocked at the suggestion, Carol or Leo. CJ however, once decided on a course of action, wouldn't be dissuaded, and logically pointed out that Carol had been handling the press with her for the last couple of months, that she knew exactly what had to be done, and that Margaret would be able to help her out long distance with anything that she wasn't sure of. She'd called Carol over later, explaining everything that was needed to her, and Carol had been terrified, but she'd put her best face on and told CJ that she'd be fine.

Later on that night in the hotel room, she'd outlined her feelings to Margaret, wondering how the hell she was going to manage working with Leo. She hadn't touched on the real reason she felt uncomfortable though; she couldn't possibly tell Margaret that, but as it happened, her second reason was good enough. "He was the Secretary of Labour for crying out loud!" she said, throwing her hands up to Heaven. "And I hardly know what I'm doing!"

Margaret had calmly told her not to worry, and given her several helpful hints on dealing with Leo and his various moods. "You'll be fine," she told her, with a pat on the hand.

Easy for her to say, Carol had thought, but she'd smiled bravely, and got on the plane to Cedar Rapids with Leo, him barking orders at her, her with her notepad in one hand, cellphone in the other, trying to keep up, and not doing too badly. They'd worked as best they could on the plane, and once they got to the campaign headquarters, she'd discovered that she knew exactly what to do, what to say, and how to proceed. She didn't need to call Margaret once, and by the end of the day, Leo had turned to her with a smile on his face. She'd almost fallen over at that, but had kept her footing, only to hear him say, "One more meeting."

She'd lifted an eyebrow, not having that in her schedule, and he'd continued, "John Fraser and Richard Davies. We're hoping to have them contribute. I went to law school with John, and Richard is one of his associates. We're meeting them for drinks. Then we'll get some dinner."

She'd nodded and gone along with it, playing the part of the good little assistant, mentally wondering what she'd have for dinner, hoping her stomach wouldn't growl too loudly and give away the fact that she was starving. Nervous as she was that morning, she'd skipped breakfast, and bagels and danishes grabbed on the run did not a full stomach make. The meeting seemed to be going well, and when she sensed it was nearing the end; she excused herself to go to the ladies room.

The ladies room exited into the lobby of the hotel, and she was surprised when she came back out to see Richard Davies there, apparently waiting for her. She'd asked him if there was anything he needed, or anything that she could do for him; she'd never been quite able to remember just what she said. His response was seared into her memory however, and she knew that if she lived to be a hundred, she'd remember the tone of his voice, the leer in his face when he said it. She blushed hotly, biting back the response that came to mind because after all, they wanted him to contribute to the campaign, and she looked around the lobby to see who might be watching, but there was nobody around. He did the same thing, grabbing her by the elbow, pushing her into the door of the ladies room, pressing his body against hers, and she tried to push him away, but he was stronger than he looked. She was just about to scream for help when a familiar voice said, "What the hell?" and Davies was yanked away from her.

Leo McGarry had him by the arm, and while Davies stood some five inches taller and at least fifteen pounds heavier, Carol knew who she'd put her money on in this confrontation. "What the hell are you doing?" Leo asked, his face a mask of anger.

"It was nothing…" Davies tried to say, but Leo wasn't having any of it.

"It didn't look like nothing to me," he said, his gaze swinging to Carol, even as his grip tightened on Davies's arm. "Are you ok?"

She knew that there were tears in her eyes and she was rubbing her arm, but she managed to nod. "C'mon, it was just a little fun," Davies tried again.

"This is what you call fun?"

"Hey, I just gave you a quarter of a million dollars…"

"What do you think this is, the most expensive escort agency in the world?" Leo asked, amazement and disgust written all over his face. "That kind of behaviour is unacceptable to me, and to Jed Bartlet. Now, you can either take your money and leave, or you can leave your money and leave. But if I see you near Carol again…"

Davies, flushed red, muttered something unintelligible and walked off, leaving Leo staring after him in disgust. Carol couldn't take her eyes off Davies's retreating back, and jumped slightly when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her scared eyes met Leo's appalled ones, and he removed his hand quickly. "Are you ok?" he asked again, and his voice was gentler this time.

She nodded. "Thank you," she whispered.

He waved a hand. "Did he hurt you?"

"No…he just grabbed me by the arms…" It had been warm in the hotel and she'd removed her jacket, leaving her in a short sleeved red shirt, with a black camisole underneath it. She could see the red marks of his fingers on her skin and shuddered despite herself. His breath caught at the sight of them too, and one finger reached out gently, carefully, lifting her sleeve so he could see how bad they were. "They'll fade," she murmured, not sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

He nodded, swallowing hard. "C'mon," he said, reaching behind her to put his hand on the small of her back. "Finish your drink. Then we'll head back to our hotel and get dinner."

It had only been a soda water, and it was half finished, but she gulped it down quickly, wanting as much distance between herself and this place as possible suddenly. He helped her into her suit jacket, then her coat and led her out into the night. Their hotel was only down the street, so they walked side by side in silence, close, but not touching.

He checked for messages once they got to the hotel, and lost in her own thoughts as she was, she'd snapped back to reality when she saw the pieces of paper in his hand, asking her if there was anything that she should be doing to help him. He'd shaken his head, telling her to go to her room and freshen up, that he'd return the calls that needed returning, and that he'd meet her down in the lobby for dinner in ten minutes. She'd protested, telling him that she wasn't hungry, and thanks to the scene in the other hotel, she really wasn't, but he'd glared at her, with the glare that had reduced stronger men and women than her to trembling wrecks, and told her that she was eating, come what may. "I’m not having CJ Cregg telling me that I didn't take care of you on the road," he told her firmly, and she'd smiled and nodded her head.

She'd freshened up quickly, changing into jeans and a sweater in record time. She really wanted to take a shower; her skin still crawling from the touch of Davies's hand, but she knew that she didn't have the time for that. She settled for running a brush through her hair and a spray of perfume before grabbing her purse and room key and heading down to the lobby.

She was right on time, but he wasn't, and she knew that ten minutes of phone calls would undoubtedly become fifteen or twenty. She sat in the lobby for a few minutes, glancing through a newspaper on the table, but she was still edgy from earlier, and the room felt as if it was closing in on her, and she'd stood up, going out the main doors of the hotel. There were steps to the left and the right, leading down to the street, but she stayed on the plateau, in full view of the doorman, in full view of the door, so that Leo would see her when he came down. She leaned on the iron railing, lost in thought, not even noticing as the cold from the metal seeped through her sweater, followed by the cold from the evening air.

She didn't notice how cold she was until a jacket was placed around her shoulders. She started slightly, half turning in surprise to see Leo there, an amused smile on his face. "I was waiting for you to notice I was here," he said.

She blushed, embarrassed at being caught like that, by him of all people. "I was just… I mean…"

He nodded, adopting the same posture as her, arms resting on the railing, looking straight ahead. "I know." He waited for a moment before he spoke again, and Carol knew that he was waiting for her to regain her composure, and she was grateful to him for that. "You ok?" he asked finally, and when she looked over at him, his face was serious, his eyes worried.

"I'm fine Leo," she smiled, trying to make herself believe it. He lifted an eyebrow in silent question, and she looked down quickly, then back up again. "I will be," she amended.

"Good." He nodded affirmatively, looking back to the warmth of the hotel lobby. "You must be freezing out here."

"I didn't even notice it," she admitted self-consciously, suddenly very aware of the comfortable weight and warmth of his jacket around her shoulders. "We should go back inside though."

She tried not to notice how quickly he moved to the door, tried not to laugh and managed it. He held the door open for her and walked with her to the restaurant, his hand at the small of her back. She carefully arranged his jacket on the back of her chair, the chair that he pulled out for her, and she smiled across the table at him as the waiter handed them a menu.

They settled on their order quickly; pasta for her, steak for him, and both were drinking water. He leaned back in his chair and looked at her thoughtfully when the waiter left, tilting his head to one side. "You don't have to stick with water on my account," he told her, and she frowned, not understanding. He frowned at her reaction, before his face cleared, then relaxed into a grin. "You really haven't spent much time in Washington, have you?" he asked.

She shook her head, still not quite sure of what he was getting at. "This is my first political campaign," she said. "I'm still learning the ropes…that's why I was so surprised when CJ sent me down here."

"You're doing fine," he told her, pausing when the waiter set down a jug of iced water on the table. "You think you'll stick around? When we win?"

Carol laughed, pouring them both a glass of water. "Work in the White House? Are you kidding me?"

He laughed too, nodding. "There's a lot of that going around."

"You really think we can win Leo?" she asked him, because the numbers weren't great at the moment, even if they were going up, and election looked like a pipedream. Still, he was nodding, looking like it was a sure thing.

"I wouldn't have got into this if I didn't think we could," he told her. "I don't like losing Carol. Besides, I think the Governor is the best man for the job."

She nodded, taking a sip of her water. "Me too," she admitted. "So, if we win…"

"When we win."

She grinned. "When we win," she corrected herself. "And I go to Washington, what should I know?"

She thought for an instant that she'd said something wrong, because the smile that had been on his face vanished, faint lines appearing around his eyes and mouth. He didn't speak for a long time, just lifted his glass of water and took a slow sip from it.

"Leo?" she asked, biting her bottom lip. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Nah." His face cleared, and she could almost see him coming to a decision. "I'm a recovering alcoholic," he told her simply, and her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the earlier meeting, when he had ordered water at the bar, joking with Fraser and Davies that he wanted to keep a clear head for business with them, jokingly telling Fraser that he'd known him for years, and knew he couldn't be trusted. Now that she thought about it, she realised that she'd never seen Leo with a drink in his hand, had never even seen him socialise with the rest of the campaign staff. She'd thought it was just because he was the boss. Now she knew why.

"Aren't you going to say something?" he asked her, his words bringing her back to reality.

"How long for?" she asked, and he blinked at the question, but he answered.

"I went into rehab in June of 93."

"And the Governor knows?"

"He was the one who put me there," Leo shrugged. "He's a good friend." He took another sip of his drink, keeping his eyes on the glass, not on her, when he put it back down on the table. "Most people in Washington know. I think it's one of those things, you know, everyone's heard it, and no-one knows if it's true, but everyone believes it?"

"You can sing any Emily Dickinson poem to the tune of The Yellow Rose of Texas."

Her words had his head snapping up, and a blush of scarlet racing up her cheeks. "What?" he asked her, laughing in amazement, and his laughter was infectious.

"It's something that we used to do in college…" she told him in between giggles. "It was the only way most of us could learn Dickinson."

"The Yellow Rose of Texas?" he asked.

She nodded, before looking up to the ceiling. "I can't believe I'm going to do this," she muttered, before singing in a whisper, "Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me. The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality." She took another drink when she concluded her impromptu performance, and looked around quickly, hoping no-one was looking at her. No-one was. "Happy now?"

He was laughing heartily now, leaning back in his chair, shoulders shaking with mirth. "You want to perform any other party pieces for me?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"I think that's quite enough." She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down. "Right then…what else should I know about Washington?"

He didn't have to think for long before he was telling her all sorts of stories, about people that she'd never met, people she'd only heard of, with an interesting sidebar on the history of the White House. When he'd finished with that, they got on to the subject of how she came to join the campaign, which lead to a discussion of how he came up with the idea of convincing the Governor to run.

By the time dinner was over, they were both totally relaxed, lingering over coffee until a yawn escaped her. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, and he looked at his watch, eyes widening when he saw the hour.

"Don't be," he told her. "It's been a long day, and you've worked hard…plus, we've got an early start tomorrow. We should head up."

She nodded, standing up, throwing his jacket over her arm. Once more, they walked with his hand at the small of her back, him gently guiding her up the stairs. They got to her room door, and he stopped, smiling at her. "Door to door service," he joked, and she smiled.

"Here you go," she said, handing his jacket back to him. "Thank you."

He shrugged. "You were cold," he said simply.

She shook her head. "Not just for the jacket. For today, with Davies…for tonight, for keeping my mind off it…for everything."

He looked down to the side, but she could see a smile hovering around his lips. "It was nothing."

"Well, anyway…" she breathed. "Thank you." On impulse, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his cheek, pulling away quickly when the realisation of what she was doing, of who she was kissing, hit her. She was all ready to apologise when she pulled back, sure that he'd been embarrassed, annoyed even, but when his eyes met hers, they were the last emotions that she saw there.

Later, when she thought back on it, and she would do that often in the months that followed, she was never sure whose lips met whose first, or even how they got into the bedroom in the first place. She could remember certain feelings, sensations, how his hands felt running through her hair, over her skin, the way that his lips felt against hers.

But what she most remembered was afterwards. He was lying on his back, looking down at her, as she lay on her stomach, halfway to dozing off. She opened one eye and looked over at him, waking fully when she saw the look in his eyes, the way that he was biting his lower lip, even as one hand was playing with her hair. She knew what he was going to say next, and she shook her head. "Don't."

He frowned, then quickly forced a smile to his face, but it looked forced. "Don't what?" he asked, and his tone was light.

"Don't think what you're thinking," she whispered.

"You read minds now?" This time, his smile was more genuine.

"In my spare time." He grinned at her quip, but she didn't smile back. "I know what you're thinking Leo, and let me put you straight on a couple of things. First of all, I'm not some young impressionable female who was in a bad place that you took advantage of. I was not still reeling from what happened this afternoon, I was fully aware of what I was doing, and I didn't feel any pressure from you. If anything, I was the instigator. I'm here because I want to be."

His expression had grown steadily more amazed as she spoke, and when she finished, he had but one word to say in response. "Why?"

The look on his face and the tone of her voice sent her off into peals of giggles, and she took her time sobering up. "That's one reason for starters," she told him, leaning over and kissing his lips quickly. "You have no idea how many women on the campaign would love to be where I am now, do you?"

His face grew serious. "No. But Carol…I'm married. And I love my wife."

She nodded slowly. "I know you do. But Leo, I'm not looking for anything more than this. I don't want you to leave her for me, I don't need any promises. This can't ever happen again, I know all that. And that's ok." He blinked a couple of times, and she thought over her words, realising how they must have sounded. "You must think I'm terrible," she moaned, dropping her head into the pillow, muffling the rest of her thought. "Sleeping with a married man and showing no remorse, you must just think that I'm the biggest…"

"Carol…" He was laughing as he tugged at a lock of hair gently, making her look up at him. "Even if I understood one-tenth of what you said there, I don't think you're terrible. There are two of us here you know."

She nodded, but her cheeks were still red. "So, where do we go from here?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "I go back to my room. Tomorrow, we go back to Manchester."

"And we don't mention this again," Carol finished, and he nodded. "Then you should go," she whispered. "Now."

He nodded again, leaning forward to brush a kiss across her cheek. She watched him as he stood, then laid her head back down on the pillow, turned away from him. She didn't look up again until she heard the door click shut behind him.

>*<*>*<

The next morning had had the potential to be awkward, and indeed, he'd been a little stand-offish with her at first. That had lasted until they were sitting side by side at the airport boarding gate, and he'd lifted his head from his Times crossword, turning to her with an amused look on his face.

"Which poem is it this morning?" he asked her, and she'd been mystified until she realised that she'd been humming The Yellow Rose of Texas to herself.

She'd laughed too and that had broken the tension between them. He'd gone back to his crossword and she'd gone back to her magazine, and during the flight back he'd thrown some of the clues that he couldn't work out at her, and she'd managed to decipher one or two of them. When they got back to headquarters, she made a beeline for CJ, who had looked at her sympathetically and asked her if working for Leo had been a nightmare. Carol had shrugged, telling her that it had been ok, but that she'd rather keep working with her, and CJ had grinned, telling her that she'd see what she could do. That night in their room, Margaret told her that Leo had been singing her praises that afternoon, telling everyone what a great help she'd been. The redhead sounded more than a little miffed that she hadn't been missed, and Carol had smiled to herself, assuring Margaret that her position was in no jeopardy.

They hadn't worked together after that, save for the times when their paths crossed passing messages on, or during campaign related issues. They didn't socialise, didn't even talk much, mostly just nodding to one another as they passed in the halls. Everyone was so busy, so focussed on what they'd come here to do that it went unremarked on, and before long, most people had forgotten all about that trip. It was a one night thing, to fix someone else's screw up, and it wasn't even worth a footnote in campaign history.

Except to Carol.

She'd known what she was getting in to, and she'd meant what she'd said to him that night. She didn't want anything more than that. Things were the way they were, and there was nothing to be done about it. She went on with her life, met new people, dated new men, and somewhere along the line, she got over her crush on him. When she heard that his wife had left him, she was genuinely sorry for him, because she knew that he'd really loved her, but she didn't even consider that it might mean anything to her. She'd had one night with Leo, and she knew that was all it could be.

She'd never thought of that night without smiling until today, when she was standing against the wall of the pressroom, sick for him, watching him reveal his personal demons to the world.

Just like her first day in the press room, when she'd been shaking, hands sweaty, once she got out of there, once she had a chance to sit at her desk, she was fine. And she did what she'd done every day since she got this job; she put her head down and she worked hard and she tried to put everything else out of her mind.

She didn't think about him until he came by CJ's office, and she looked up. "She's in with Toby," she told him, and he nodded.

"She told me that she'd have the wire reports…about my thing…"

He'd looked uncomfortable and she'd taken pity on him, pulling a folder from a pile on the desk. "Here they are," she said.

"Thanks." He took the folder, but didn't make a move to leave. One hand dropped to tap on the surface of the table, and he nodded his head from side to side. "Today…in the press room…"

His voice trailed off as the tapping on the table quickened, and she lifted an eyebrow, inviting him without words to continue.

"It's just…I'm glad you were there is all."

He finally got it out, all in a rush, and she smiled up at him. "I'm glad I was there too," she told him, and her heart gave a tiny unexpected thump when he smiled back.

"Yeah…well, I should…" He gestured over his shoulder, and she nodded.

"Absolutely."

She looked back down at her papers as he half turned, because she didn't want to see him walk away from her. It was silly, some residual ache from that night she supposed. But her head snapped up almost of its own accord as she watched his retreating back, and a smile spread across her face as she settled back down to her work.

He was whistling as he left, so softly that she could only barely hear it. But hear it she did, slightly off-key, but still recognisable as The Yellow Rose of Texas.